


burned but not destroyed

by hollow_city



Series: constant game of falling short [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1 Things, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gen, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Not Canon Compliant, Self-Worth Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-13 22:24:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14122128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollow_city/pseuds/hollow_city
Summary: five defining moments in keith's life, and one in bruce's.[or: keith ends up in an orphanage in gotham.]





	burned but not destroyed

**Author's Note:**

> i sort of started this a while ago but it was a completely different format and way too long for me to manage. so, i've settled for this. i almost didn't write this because i thought maybe i needed to stop blending my fandoms together after a lot of my recent works but then i decided.... nah. it's too much fun.  
> the title is from a conversation in hollow city by ransom riggs. ha.

-

**1.** _the big brother_

Keith doesn't remember much about his mother. Memories come in flashes of purple and bright eyes and short, soft hair. He doesn't know much else that his father hasn't told him. He wishes he knew more, knew everything, but she's gone, so he doesn't. 

He's not sure why she left him, and if his father knew, he never told him.

It's too late now anyway. Any information he could've gotten about his mother dies with his father. 

He's alone now. Completely alone. They can't find any extended family members to dump him with because his father was an only child, and they can't find any record of his mother. They can't find anything tying him to anybody else, so they dump him in a foster home. 

It's not bad. It's not horrible, but they don't like him too much. He's more of an obligation. They get money to take care of him, but they don't use it all to take care of him. They keep him alive and they have fun with their extra money.

It's fine. He's okay. He misses his dad a lot, but he's okay. He has to be.

Keith is okay until they return him. They return him like he's an object they saw in the store but realized too late they didn't actually want it. They don't want him anymore but they want the other little boy they'd been fostering. They're adopting that boy, but they bring Keith back. They like the other boy better than they like him, and it hurts.

He wasn't good enough to make his mother stay and he isn't good enough to make them keep him. He doesn't like to dwell on this because it hurts, hurts, hurts until he feels like he's going to fall to pieces. 

He's seven when he's dropped in an orphanage in Gotham. He's been pushed through four foster homes at this point, and none of them wanted him after they found out he has a proclivity for fighting and talking back. He never felt the same fear the other kids felt when they were the target of a fiery glare.

He wasn't afraid to stand his ground.

That didn't really help him. At all. 

And now he finds himself in yet another orphanage. He's used to it by now, but this one is worse. It's in Gotham.

He's not entirely sure how he ended up  _here_ , of all places, because he and his father never lived in the state in which Gotham resides, and he's yet to stay in a foster home in Gotham, but he's partially grateful that he hasn't had to spend time here before. 

Gotham is a cesspit. It's horrible. Keith isn't blind. He can handle what's been thrown at him for now, but he knows how bad it is outside the walls of the orphanage. The alleyways produce more death than anything he's ever seen in his life, and he's watched a lot of bad crime shows. The darkest corners are filled with the kind of scum who laugh as the world burns and smile as everything crumbles. Vigilantes swing from buildings and beat down criminals, the only things keeping the city afloat. 

So, yeah. Keith knows it's horrible. But there's something about the city that makes him feel safe. Maybe it's the dark shadow that protects the corner of the city in which the orphanage is nestled, not that he would ever admit that out loud.

He knows there's nothing really safe about this place, though. Not this city, not this orphanage. Not the school they send him to every day. 

Keith's angry behavior in school betrays how much he really enjoys it, though. He loves going there. He loves learning, he loves reading, he's got quite the head for numbers, and it's the best part of his day. It's not cold and dark like the orphanage and the teachers are much nicer than the people who work at the orphanage. 

He tells the woman in charge of him at the orphanage that he's joined the math team, but he hasn't. He spends the hour and a half wandering Gotham instead. He wants to become self-sufficient. Or, well, as self-sufficient as he can be at eight years old. He just doesn't want to be in that orphanage anymore. He's been in enough that he understands now; nobody will ever want him, so there is no point in staying. The other children don't like him too much, the caretakers and volunteers can't stand him. There's no point.

So Keith spends the hour and a half lifting wallets and stealing food from people and restaurants and learning how to work the streets. Keith's sharp, and it doesn't take long. 

He's nearly nine when he snaps. He rubs the darkening bruise on his cheek as he packs his scarce belongings in his threadbare backpack and slings it over his shoulder. The boys sleeping in the same room as him don't wake as he slides the window open. There are no screens in the window, just Keith's luck, so he lifts himself up and out. He's sure his luck will run out soon, because his room is also at ground level. 

He's closed the window and run for the streets in seconds. He doesn't know where he'll go, but he'll survive. He has until now, after all. He knows where to get food and he knows where to get money, so what does he have to worry about?

A lot, apparently, because two weeks into his stay in the magnificently disgusting alleyway beside a Starbucks, he fucks up. He's desperate, because the restaurant that had been easiest to lift from had shut down for good, and it's so cold out that he's too shaky to successfully lift someone's wallet. 

As he sits curled in a ball behind a dumpster, blowing lukewarm air into his trembling hands, Keith decides that he'll just have to push his luck, because he's so hungry, and he's so goddamn freezing. Either he picks someone's pocket, miraculously finds a twenty dollar bill on the street, or shivers until he freezes completely.

The first option sounds the best to him at the moment. He emerges from his makeshift home--a cardboard box underneath a dumpster lid--and shoves his hands in his pockets. He blends in easily with the other Gothamites; a straggly kid with holes in his shoes and a frown on his face. He uses it to his advantage. He bumps arms with several people, scoping out his target. Finally, he finds one. The perfect one.

It's a young man, not overly tall but still much taller than Keith. He has a tiny smile on his face as he talks with somebody on his very expensive looking phone. He's distracted, and Keith smacks straight into him.

"S-Sorry, I-" Keith stammers, eyes wide and innocent, but then his hand makes contact with something that is decidedly  _not_ a wallet and his breath hitches. 

A police badge. He retracts his hand like he's been stung and bolts. He's across the street before the man can even call out. 

"Hey, kid, wait!" he shouts after him. Keith barely hears him tell the person on the other end of the call to hold on a moment before footsteps are thudding behind him.

Keith's chest tightens and tightens with panic until he can barely breathe, but he runs faster anyway. He knows he can't outrun this man, he's much too short and that man is much too tall, but if he gets creative, he might stand a chance. He's much smaller, much skinnier, so maybe he can squeeze in somewhere and get away. 

But of course not. Of course, it's the end of November and the sidewalks are covered in black ice that he doesn't see until his foot slides across it. His eyes fly open wide as he scrambles for purchase, but the stall in his movements give the man plenty of time to catch up. He doesn't even look winded as he stands in front of Keith, looking something between sad and relieved. 

Keith finally finds his footing and backs up as far as he can, his heartbeat thrumming through his whole body. The man doesn't look scary, or evil, or cruel, but neither had his third foster mother, and she was an absolute witch. 

"I won't hurt you, you don't have to be afraid of me," the man says softly, holding out his hands placatingly. 

"Then why'd you follow me?" Keith spits back. He's terrified, but he won't let the man know that. 

He only smiles softly, and it's so, so sincere. Keith is almost thrown off. 

"You tried to pick my pocket," he says like it's obvious what he's getting at. When Keith twitches nervously, he jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward the small cafe behind him. "I figured maybe you'd be hungry."

Keith eyes him dubiously. "So?"

The man has all the patience in the world, and Keith still doesn't understand what's happening here. People aren't this nice. 

"So, if you're hungry, let's go," he replies, "get whatever you want, on me."

Keith watches him for another moment, before crossing his arms over his stomach and tilting his head. 

"But... why?" he asks, his eyes flicking back and forth as he surveys his ways out. He just tried to steal this guy's wallet, and he's offering to buy him food? 

Keith isn't so sure he's in Gotham anymore. 

The man shrugs. "Like I said, you look hungry. Besides, it's way too cold to be out here for too long. Come on."

He turns and begins walking back across the street without looking back like he just assumes the boy will follow him. After another moment of careful deliberation, Keith decides that he can't possibly pass up this opportunity, and follows. When he makes it to the door, the man holds it open and Keith ducks under his arm, shuddering at the sudden rush of heat. It's so pleasant that he almost can't stand it. 

"Whatever I want?" Keith clarifies as he stares up at the menu with curious eyes. 

The man nods. "Whatever you want."

His phone rings suddenly and Keith tenses, watching out of the corner of his eye as the man reaches into his pocket and silences it without even checking to see who it is. 

"Shouldn't you get that?" he asks quietly, digging his hands further into the pockets of his tattered jeans. 

The man smiles. "I'm sure they can wait." 

When they make it to the counter, the man orders a coffee and a bagel, while Keith asks for the cheapest thing on the menu; a blueberry muffin. He thinks the man notices because his face twitches, but he doesn't say anything. Keith follows the man to a booth in the corner and sits down across from him, immediately beginning to pick at his muffin. 

"I'm Dick, by the way. Dick Grayson," the man tells him, taking a sip of his coffee. 

Keith doesn't look up from his muffin and mumbles around a mouthful, "Keith."

"Nice to meet you, Keith," Dick says, and Keith almost frowns at how cheerful he sounds. "Got anywhere you need to be?"

Keith stops chewing. He can't tell what he's supposed to say here. It takes him a moment of turning his finger purple with a blueberry from his muffin before he realizes what Dick is really asking him.

"Yeah," he finally says, and it's a lie, but he doesn't want to know what Dick will do if he says no. 

Dick puts his bagel down and leans forward on his elbows. "Then what are you doing out in the cold, picking pockets?"

Keith takes a vicious bite. "Just 'cause." 

The man stares at him for a moment, Keith can feel his gaze, before taking a sip of his coffee and letting it go. 

They don't talk much more, and when they do, it's Dick asking questions or making comments and Keith giving one word or no word responses. He eats rather slowly because he hasn't eaten something this good in ages, and when it's gone, he's slightly disappointed. 

He watches Dick decline several more calls without a second thought, but he doesn't ask about it again.

When Dick is done eating, he smiles a smile so bright Keith thinks he might be blinded by those perfect teeth. 

"Thanks for sitting with me, Keith. It's been fun," he says, and Keith stares. Had it really been? Keith rather enjoyed himself because it's quite warm in here and the muffin was very good, but why would Dick enjoy himself? Keith's been told he's somewhat of a wet blanket in any situation he finds himself in. 

"Thanks for the food, Mr. Grayson," Keith replies quietly, gaze flicking to Dick's bright blue eyes and back to the table. 

"No problem, kid. And seriously, call me Dick."

Keith is perfectly content with leaving it at that and leaving the cafe, leaving the tremendously kind man behind, but Dick isn't content with that. He walks with Keith until they exit the cafe, but then he insists on walking him home, and Keith is suspicious, but then he panics. He doesn't  _have_ a home. 

He has the orphanage, and he's sure they reported him missing, but he's not sure he wants to go back. 

But then he considers what he's doing. It's cold, so very cold, he's hungry even still, and he's lonely. 

He walks back to the orphanage with Dick, smiles stiffly when the man bids him goodbye and takes the punishment he's given for running off when he enters the building.

He sits alone in his room for days, taking the meals offered and reading and rereading the same three books he'd left behind.

It's a week later on the dot when Bruce Wayne shows up, and two weeks later when Keith is no longer alone. 

 

**2.** _the batman_

Keith has been with the Waynes for two weeks before he figures it out. He's almost disappointed with himself for how long it took because he doesn't love anything more than he loves superheroes. He never broadcasted it, not before, because a lot of the people in the places where Keith's stayed don't like Batman too much. Keith still thinks all of them are just the coolest. 

Flying through the night like gravity doesn't affect them, racing down the streets like speed limits don't exist. Keith knows them all. He just doesn't know their real names. 

But now he does.

It really wasn't hard. Mr. Wayne didn't make it very difficult to figure out. He doesn't talk much to Keith, not that the boy minds very much, but they still talk at dinner every night. 

Some nights Dick is there, most nights Tim is there, but Bruce is almost always there. Sometimes he doesn't show up, and he comes back very late at night. Keith would know; he stays up until everybody else is asleep. 

But one night, the fourteenth day in this huge, scary manor, Mr. Wayne comes into dinner late, the edge of a bandage barely visible over the collar of his shirt and faint bruises on the knuckles of one hand. He's acting like nothing's off, but everything clicks into place.

Keith saw Mr. Wayne leave in the middle of the conference call he'd taken in his office, and then Keith's phone--the one Mr. Wayne repeatedly insisted he have--lights up with a Twitter notification from the Batman update page he follows. It's a simple coincidence but Keith's mind races as he pulls together all the loose threads. 

Mr. Wayne disappears all the time, and when he comes back, he gives Keith some kind of excuse that he must think works but is actually quite ridiculous. He comes home very late at night and the one time Keith met him in the kitchen to ask about it, Mr. Wayne deflected and insisted that it was far too late for Keith to be up. He let it go because Mr. Wayne's mouth would stay firmly shut if he wanted it to. 

Sometimes he comes home with random cuts and bruises that Keith doesn't ask about but Mr. Wayne explains anyway. They're never good excuses. 

Really, Keith isn't sure why it took him this long to figure it out. Or, actually, why Mr. Wayne thought he was doing a good job of keeping it a secret. 

And besides, now that the idea is planted in Keith's mind, everything is falling into place. Dick is an acrobat--he's told Keith all kinds of stories of the circus--and he wears a lot of blue. He's very cheerful and he's very good at his job as a Bludhaven police officer, and he reminds Keith of Nightwing. 

And Tim. Keith likes Tim a lot, but he's totally Robin. Tim is super smart and sometimes he has unexplained cuts and bruises too. Keith knows the kids at school don't love Tim all that much--Keith hasn't been to school yet, but he knows--but he knows they don't do  _that_ to him. 

But the one thing that really gets him the most, the thing that makes his chest burn and his hands twitch, is Jason Todd. Jason Todd died and Keith knows that. They say he was kidnapped and killed, they being the media of course, but then Robin died too. Or he was replaced, at least. 

And then Tim came around. And Robin came back.

 _Really_ , Keith thinks. It's too easy. 

"Mr. Wayne," Keith starts during dinner. Dick and Tim are here tonight, and Bruce is actually on time. 

"Keith, I've told you, you can call me Bruce," Bruce says for the hundredth time. 

"Bruce," Keith starts again. He's never been close enough to another adult to call them by their name, so he often forgets. Keith takes a bite of his chicken and mumbles around it. "You must think I'm pretty dumb."

He gets a sharp look from Alfred for talking with his mouth full, so he swallows quickly before looking up. Bruce stops chewing suddenly and stares down at Keith, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He swallows hard and puts down his fork.

Keith feels a brief stab of doubt, thinks that maybe he's wrong, maybe it's all just a coincidence, but it's too late to back out now. 

"Of course I don't think you're dumb, Keith," Bruce replies, frowning. 

Keith stabs his potato. "Then stop treating me like you do."

"What's going on?" Tim asks, his eyes flicking back and forth between them. He's not always around and he goes to school while Keith stays home, so sometimes he misses things. 

Keith puts down his fork, potato still attached, and holds up one small hand. He holds it up in front of his eyes until he can only see the bottom half of Bruce's face. 

"I am vengeance, I am the night," he growls, putting on his best scowl. He watches as Bruce's shoulders tighten minutely and he drops his hand. He turns to Dick, a genuine look of curiosity on his face. "Did he really say that? This is very important, I really need to know."

"Keith, what are you talking about?" Dick asks instead of responding. But. Keith isn't dumb.

"You guys actually kind of suck at lying," Keith says matter-of-factly, taking a sip of juice. "You tried to tell me that you bruised your shoulder skiing."

Bruce laces his fingers together. "Because that's what I did."

Keith makes a face. "You were only gone for an hour. Where did you go skiing?"

The room falls silent, an icy, thick kind of silence. Keith doesn't even notice and continues to chomp on his dinner. He finishes off his chicken before he looks up again. He reaches to take a sip of his drink but pauses halfway when he notices the stares he's getting. They're all looking at him, four sets of blue eyes boring into him. His skin crawls and his hand twitches where it rests on the table. 

"Keith..." Bruce starts but trails off, letting out a long-suffering sigh. 

Keith clenches his fist and squares his shoulders. He's still pretty small for his age, so doing so doesn't make him look any tougher, but he doesn't care. 

"Stop lying to me," he demands, looking up at Bruce with wide indigo eyes. "I know you're Batman." 

Bruce finally deflates, as if he's given up. Keith wants to feel victorious, but the man looks a bit sad, so he just feels a little guilty. He thinks that maybe he shouldn't have brought it up at all because now he's gone and ruined dinner. They all look a little bit upset and now Keith just feels bad. 

He should've just stayed quiet. As usual. 

"You're right," Bruce says after a long moment. "I am Batman."

Keith stares up at him for a moment, his eyes slowly widening in awe. Sure, he'd figured it out, but it just makes it all the more real when Bruce admits it. 

"That's so cool," Keith breathes, shifting so he's sitting on his feet. He leans forward on his elbows and grins. "So you guys  _are_ Nightwing and Robin!" 

Dick's frown slowly grows into a soft grin when he sees how happy his little brother is. 

"Yeah, we are."

Keith rocks back to sit flat on his feet, bubblier than they've ever seen him before.

"Keith, now that you know this-" Bruce starts, looking far more serious than Keith's ever seen him.

Keith cuts him off. "I already knew! 'Sides, I'm not gonna tell anybody." 

Bruce sighs, but the corner of his mouth twitches. 

"Okay, Keith. Okay. Let me make one thing clear, though," Bruce says, leaning forward and making sure Keith is looking him in the eye. The boy has a proclivity for avoiding eye-contact at all costs. Keith nods enthusiastically, his eyes flicking around Bruce's face. "Your brothers may go out there with me, but you won't be. I'll train you to protect yourself, but I don't want you out there with us. When you're eighteen you're free to whatever you want, but until then, you'll be staying here."

Keith's eyes widen before he nods again. His bangs fall in his eyes and he doesn't even bother to brush them out of the way. 

"That's okay, I don't want to go out there with you guys," he says, leaning back in his chair. 

"You don't?" Tim asks, his eyebrows furrowed. "Why not?"

Keith crosses his arms and shrugs. "I don't know. I don't need to. Learning how to fight-"

"Protect yourself," Bruce cuts in.

Keith talks over him like he hadn't spoken. "-sounds awesome, though."

Bruce shifts in his seat, silent for a moment, before asking, "to clarify, you don't want to join us?"

Keith shrugs again. "Not if you don't want me to."

The man looks so incredibly relieved, but Keith doesn't notice. He takes another bite of his potato, having seemingly remembered the food before him, before his face lights up again and he looks up with wide eyes. 

"Can I see the Batmobile?!"

 

**3.** _the father_

Keith loves space. That much is clear by the time he’s been at the manor for five months.

He spends an awful lot of time staring at the night sky while he waits for Bruce and Tim to come back (no matter how many times Bruce had told him that he has to go to bed). He watches documentaries about far-off galaxies and the history of space travel and the way other celestial bodies function, and then he rambles about them over dinner. He pastes glow in the dark stars on his ceiling and forms some of his favorite constellations (with a little help from Bruce, who still has nearly two feet on him).

Dick thinks it’s adorable, nearly cooing every time the boy lets go of his usual heavily-guarded, slightly gloomy attitude to ramble excitedly. Sometimes Tim engages, eager to learn some of the things that Keith learned--especially the physics aspect of it. Alfred will sometimes offer a factoid from his infinite library of Alfred knowledge when it’s just the two of them alone.

Bruce thinks it’s fantastic because for the first two months Keith resided at the manor, he remained incredibly reserved. He didn’t talk very much and he mostly kept to himself. He didn’t seem interested in much of anything, opting to spend most of his time in the library.

(Sometimes Bruce will walk by, see the head of unruly black hair and pause, and briefly forget that Jason isn’t around anymore. But then he remembers, and then he reminds himself that this is Keith. Jason is still gone. And then he walks away.)

It all starts when one day Dick accidentally leaves the television on. Keith had reluctantly agreed to take his book into the living room with him so they could have _bonding time_ , as Dick called it. But Bruce had come home and asked to talk to Dick, so he left Keith sitting there alone.

The show that Dick had been watching ended and another show had come on.

A documentary about the universe.

Slowly, Keith’s attention drifted and drifted until the book was on the ground and he was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table with his legs crossed. His arms rested on his knees and his eyes were wide.

That’s how Bruce found him when he went to find him.

And now, space is all Keith wants to learn about, all he wants to talk about.

It’s one of the reasons why he isn’t looking forward to his first day of fifth grade. It’s a Sunday morning, so it’s tomorrow, and he’s tried to worm his way out of it any way he could.

“Bruce, I think I’m sick.”

“Bruce, I’ll be too tired.”

“What if I get hurt?”

They started out utterly ridiculous, but when Keith realized that nothing was working, he grew desperate. They slowly grew sadder and sadder without him realizing.

“Bruce, what if nobody likes me?”

“What if I’m too stupid?”

With the other excuses, Bruce had fondly rolled his eyes and continued typing on the Batcomputer. But at the last two, his fingers freeze over the keys. He spins in his chair to where Keith is sitting on the floor. He’s a little ways away, watching Tim fiddle with his laptop.

But Keith isn’t watching Tim anymore, he has his eyes on his hands and his shoulders are slumped.

Bruce stands and moves to sit down beside the boy, frowning.

“Why would you think any of those things?” he asks, ducking his head so he can try to get Keith to look at him. It doesn’t work, and Keith turns his head to look in the opposite direction.

“No reason,” he says quietly. “It’s fine. Never mind. I’ll be fine."

“Keith, I know you’re nervous, but everything will be fine,” Bruce says, resting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I don’t know how anybody could possibly _dislike_ you, and you’re one of the smartest kids I’ve ever met.”

Keith’s ears burn red. “Really?”

Bruce thinks maybe he should go for a reassuring smile, but Keith isn’t looking at him, so he continues frowning.

“Of course,” he replies, but Keith turns his gaze back to the floor. “Go to school tomorrow, and I’ll pick you up after. We can go buy that book you’ve been talking about. The one about all the stars.”

Keith finally looks up, his face twisted with confusion.

“But you have work tomorrow,” he says, his voice small.

Now Bruce goes for the smile. “Don’t worry about that. I can leave early.”

“But… what if they need you?”

“I’m sure they can manage without me.”

Keith twists his fingers in his lap before he slowly and nervously meets Bruce’s eyes.

“Thanks, Dad,” he says softly, and Bruce’s heart halts all movement. He must get a look on his face because Keith’s eyes widen with panic. He looks back to the far wall of the Cave. “I-I, sorry. I’m sorry.”

Bruce composes himself quickly, clearing his throat. “What for?”

He shifts. “I called you… I’m sorry.”

Bruce carefully wraps an arm around his shoulders, and when he doesn’t flinch or move away, tightens it and pulls the boy to his side. They’re still sitting on the stone floor of the Cave so it isn’t the most comfortable place to be having this conversation, but it doesn’t matter.

He watches as Tim gathers his laptop and tools, shoots a small smile in his direction, and exits the Cave, leaving them to talk in private. He appreciates it. He’s had this talk with all of his kids now, but Keith seems to be beating Jason in the tough-nut-to-crack category now.

“You don’t have to be sorry. You can call me that, if you want,” Bruce tells him. “But _only_ if you want to. I wouldn’t want you to if you don’t feel comfortable.”

Keith looks up at him, his eyes bright. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Bruce sighs. “Well, you already have a father, and I’m not trying to replace him.”

Keith pulls away from the side-hug so he can turn and face Bruce fully.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he says, almost angrily. His gaze is intense as he continues, “why can’t you be my dad too?” He glances away. “I miss my dad. But he’s gone. You can still be my dad even though he was, too.”

Bruce’s eyes definitely do not get misty. They do not prickle. There is no proof.

“Okay, Keith,” he says. He isn’t choked up. Nope. “So I’ll pick you up at three tomorrow?”

Keith nods firmly, as if he’s won an argument, and settles back against Bruce’s side.

“Sure, dad.”

 

**4.** _the closet_

Keith is twelve and he doesn't like girls. He just knows he doesn't. The boys in his classes are starting to forget that cooties existed and they're starting to go on dates with girls, and brag about kissing girls, and just. Keith doesn't get it. Kissing a girl sounds pretty bland to him. It's not because he still thinks girls are weird, not that he ever did like his classmates, it's more that he just can't see the appeal.

But boys, on the other hand, they're much different. He can imagine going on dates with boys and kissing boys. That sounds like a lot more fun. 

It never occurs to him that maybe that's not okay. He doesn't talk about it, but someone else does, and that's how he finds out.

There's a boy in the grade above him who's nothing like Keith. His name is Peter. He's rambunctious, very tall, and very honest. He's nice to everyone he meets and excels in all of his classes and even though he's only in eighth grade, Keith hears the teachers talk about what a great future he has ahead of him. Everybody loves him. 

But then it all changes when Peter casually lets it slip in English class that he has a boyfriend, one from the town that he transferred from at the end of elementary school. People ask about him, and Peter tells them that the boy was his best friend for all of his life. 

Keith thinks that people are genuinely interested. He soon finds out that they are not.

Peter isn't very talkative now. His friends don't like him anymore and teachers don't talk kindly about him. His grades have fallen and nobody wants to be around him. 

Keith doesn't understand. He thought that Peter seemed like a great person. 

He watches as people part in the hallway so Peter can walk through. He watches as a hand shoots out from behind an open locker door and Peter is slammed against the closed ones beside it. It's the biggest boy in the eighth grade; he's tall and he's about as muscley as a fourteen-year-old can be. He gets into Peter's face and all his meathead friends laugh and laugh and laugh until Peter cries. 

Keith hears the words they say to him, and every single one digs into his own heart. 

When the bell rings and they leave Peter leaning against the lockers, scrubbing angrily at the tears still running down his face, Keith thinks he understands. 

He doesn't really understand until a month later, when Dick is forcing him into some more  _brotherly bonding_ time. Keith pretends to hate it a lot more than he actually does because he refuses to give his brother the satisfaction. 

They're watching some stupid movie that Keith can't get into, but Dick is going on and on about a mission that he went on with his teammates, and that's far more interesting. 

"Oh!" Dick says all of a sudden, his face lighting up. "By the way, Bruce said I should probably warn you about tonight."

Keith's eyebrows furrow. "What's happening tonight?" 

Dick smiles. "My boyfriend is coming for dinner. He can be... intense sometimes, so I figured that it  _would_ be a good idea to tell you he's coming before he shows up."

He keeps talking, but Keith's mind screeched to a complete halt at the term  _boyfriend_. Dick has a boyfriend?

Dick has a boyfriend. And he's allowed to come to the manor. And Bruce doesn't hate him. Dick is allowed to have a boyfriend.

Every inch of Keith's body turns cold as his mind races. He doesn't understand. He can't understand. 

"Keith? Is that okay?"

Keith is numb. "Okay."

He doesn't remember the rest of the story. 

Two hours later, when Dick has gone down to the Cave to look over some files and Tim has gone out with Steph, Keith emerges from his room. He makes his way to Bruce's office, his teeth clenched so hard he distantly fears they might break. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans and clenched into fists to keep them from shaking.

He almost stops and he almost turns around, but he's never been a coward. He certainly won't be now.

His hand shakes against his will as he knocks on the doorframe of the open door. Bruce looks up from his work laptop and smiles, gesturing for Keith to come in.

"I need to talk to you," Keith blurts out the second he's close enough. He takes a quick breath and looks anywhere that isn't Bruce's eyes. 

Bruce can read people like books, though, so when he sees the look on Keith's face, he immediately closes his laptop and laces his fingers together in front of him.

"What's going on?" he asks, and Keith latches onto the gentle tone like a lifeline. "Keith?"

Keith moves to sit on the couch against the wall. He tucks one foot beneath him and pulls his other knee up to his chest. He stares at the ground as Bruce stands and sits beside him, refusing to move his gaze. 

"Does it bother you," Keith starts, pausing to swallow hard. He opens his mouth to continue but all that comes out is a shaky breath. His hands clench and unclench unsteadily against his chest and his heartbeat thrums through his entire body. 

"Does what bother me?" Bruce asks.

Keith bites his lip and takes as deep a breath as he can. 

"Does it bother you that Dick," he starts again, but his voice shakes enough that he ducks his head and presses his forehead into his knee. "That Dick has a boyfriend?" 

Bruce makes a confused sound in the back of his throat before he presses a hand to Keith's back.

"Keith, what is this about?" he asks cautiously. 

"Does it?" Keith asks again, lifting his head to look Bruce in the eye. He still doesn't like to make eye contact, but this is important. This is very important. Looking up at Bruce gives the man a full view of the tears building in Keith's eyes. 

"Of course not," Bruce says, sounding somewhat put-off at the implication. "Keith..."

Keith's chest heaves and he presses the back of his fist against his mouth to contain a sob. 

"So it wouldn't bother you if I liked boys?" he asks, and he barely gets the words out before the fear overthrows him and the dam breaks and a tear rolls down his cheek. 

Bruce's breath hitches near inaudibly and he immediately moves his hand from Keith's back to loop around his shoulders. Keith immediately latches on, turning his face to his father's chest and pressing into it to muffle the sound of his sniffles. 

"Of course it doesn't. It doesn't bother me at all," he says softly, hugging Keith to him tightly. 

"I'm sorry," Keith says, clenching his jaw until his muscles ache. 

Bruce pushes Keith back to hold him by the shoulders. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for."

When the boy won't meet his eyes, he ducks his head until he's forced to.

"I don't care who you like, as long as you're safe and happy, okay?"

Keith sniffs again and nods jerkily, gladly letting himself be tucked back into Bruce's side. 

He understands now. 

 

**5.** _the red hood_

Keith never firmly established himself in the hero community. Both Bruce and Dick made sure he was sufficiently trained because being the son and brother of some of the most important people is actually quite dangerous, as they've learned the hard way. They made sure he knew how to defend himself and even how to fight because one day he would probably need to. 

He didn't patrol regularly with them but sometimes he'd lend them a hand, going out in an all-black suit that covered every inch of his body except for the lower half of his face. He'd help during catastrophes and during times when everyone in Arkham and Blackgate decided it'd be a good idea to break out all at once. 

He didn't feel the same pull that the rest of them did, but he still helped. 

So maybe that's why the Red Hood came after him. 

"What do you think the reparations for punching him in the nose would be?" 

Keith casts Shiro a disbelieving look. 

"Like you'd actually do that," he scoffs, but the corner of his lip turns up. "But I would pay  _all_ of the money I have to see you break Iverson's nose."

Shiro's face scrunches up. "I'm pretty sure everybody here would."

Keith nudges him with his elbow as they turn the corner. "Yeah, they definitely would. Just imagine the look on everyone's faces if they got to watch Iverson's golden boy punch him."

The older man sighs in exasperation at the nickname, but before he can say anything else, they reach the door of their dorm. 

"Call Matt, tell him we're done," Shiro says, reaching for the doorknob. Keith pats the pockets of his awful orange uniform and lets out a stream of swears. "What?"

"I left my phone in the simulation room," Keith tells him, making a noise of frustration. "I'll-"

He cuts himself off when he notices the door is already open. It's dark inside, but Keith can just barely make out the shape of a boot at the foot of his bed. 

"You need to get some rest before we start working, I'll go get it," Shiro offers, and Keith is suddenly so glad that Shiro is so generous. 

"Thanks," he says absently, waiting while Shiro pats him on the shoulder and heads back in the direction from which they came. When he's far enough away, Keith's entire demeanor shifts and he slips into the room. 

He closes and locks the door behind him and flicks on the lights, heading for his desk and depositing his bag. He takes a leisurely sip from his water bottle, pretending to read the blurb on the back of the book Shiro had left on his bed. 

"So you're the baby of the family, huh?" 

Keith doesn't jump at the voice, having definitely seen the man lounging on his bed when he walked in. He puts down the water bottle and turns around, keeping his arms by his side so he can easily reach the knife that he has taped to the top of the middle drawer in his desk. He's not so sure he'll need it, though.

"Red Hood," he acknowledges, staring down the man in front of him.

"Gotta be honest, I expected more," Hood says, pushing himself up into a sitting position and resting his elbows on his knees. 

"I did too," Keith shoots back, scanning the room for anything conspicuous. "B made you seem a lot more intimidating."

Hood laughs, but the voice modulator in his helmet makes him sound a little more like General Grievous. Keith pointedly doesn't laugh. 

"What do you want?" Keith asks after a moment of letting the man laugh. 

Hood finally stops laughing and clears his throat.

"Oh, you know, just stopping by," he says, waving a hand. "Bats keeps all his other birds close to home to keep track of them, especially with the evil  _Red Hood_ loose on the streets." His voice turns slightly bitter. "This almost feels a little too easy."

Keith shrugs. "He can't keep me in Gotham my entire life." 

Bruce had actually called Keith when Red Hood showed up and emphasized that Keith was under no circumstances to return to Gotham. At least, until they solved the problem. He felt that it'd be safer that way.  

Hood tilts his head. "You don't seem too scared."

"Should I be?"

"Probably," he says, fiddling with one of his guns. Keith watches him mess with the bullets for a moment, before snorting. Hood's head snaps up and his fingers tighten dangerously. 

"B said you were dramatic. I thought he was kidding," Keith says, actively avoiding laughing again. He may find this display amusing, but he's not an idiot. Hood is still dangerous. He doesn't know when Shiro will be coming back, and he doesn't want Hood here when he does get back, so he asks again, "what do you want?"

Hoods hums. "Well, I  _was_ going to put a bullet in your head and deliver you gift-wrapped to Bruce and Goldie, but now I'm reconsidering."

"Oh, really?" Keith crosses his arms and sits on the edge of Shiro's bed. He's not at ease, not at all, but he'll let Hood think he is. 

"You're interesting, kid," Hood tells him. "You're also the only one of them that doesn't wear tights. Wanna tell me why?"

Keith shrugs again. "I don't want to."

"That's it? You just don't want to?" 

"Yeah. I'll help when they need me to, but it's not important to me like it is to them," he explains, before frowning. "Why does it matter?"

Hood's shoulders tighten minutely. "You can't possibly agree with the way they do things."

Oh. Keith can see where this is going.  _Reconsidering_ , huh?

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't, maybe not all the time, what difference does it make?" Keith asks. 

Hood launches to his feet and Keith's entire body stiffens, ready to defend if he needs to. 

"He's brainwashing all of you!" he shouts angrily, but once he seems to realize what he's done, takes several deeps breaths to calm himself down. 

"Bruce has no influence over the way I think," Keith says firmly, standing from his seat as well. Hood has a good six inches on him, but he doesn't let that intimidate him. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Or maybe he does. Keith doesn't know. None of them know how much the Red Hood knows. He seems to know who they all are and he knows some things that he shouldn't be able to figure out. 

Almost faster than Keith can see, Hood lunges and grabs Keith by the collar of his uniform. Keith doesn't make any noise and allows himself to be pressed against the door. He doesn't want  _anybody_ knowing that Hood is here, so he takes it silently. 

"He let the fucking  _Joker_ live!" he growls with so much fury that his hands shake in Keith's shirt. "Even after what he did!"

Slowly, all of the pieces fall into place inside Keith's mind, and on the front of the full puzzle...

"Jason," he breathes nearly inaudibly. "Holy  _shit_."

He has no idea how, absolutely no clue whatsoever, but it makes so much sense that Keith's head spins. 

But for his revelation, he doesn't get any praise. Instead, Hood's entire body stiffens and he growls as he slams his head forward, smacking Keith in the forehead with the front of the helmet. It leaves Keith dazed enough that he doesn't have the chance to duck away from the needle that sinks into his neck. Hood throws him like a ragdoll and he lands on his bed, the air rushing from his lungs when he makes contact and bounces a few times. 

He tries his damnedest to get up, but it feels like he's moving through molasses. His room grows dimmer and dimmer until his arms give up holding him and he falls backward into the soft darkness.

He doesn't hear Hood leave.

He doesn't hear Shiro come back and laugh quietly at the sight of Keith so deeply asleep.

When he wakes up the next day to find that Matt and Shiro have completed half of the project, he doesn't even look at either of them. He grabs the phone Shiro had brought back for him the day before and heads for the bathroom. 

Bruce picks up on the second ring.

"You know who he is," is all Keith says. "And you're not going to tell anyone."

Bruce won't tell anyone that Jason Todd is alive and not-so-well, hiding under the former moniker of the man who killed him. 

"No."

Keith hangs up. 

Two months later, Jason Todd will show up in his room once more. Not Red Hood, but Jason Todd. He won't apologize, but he'll offer an explanation, and Keith will tell him that he never really cared what Jason did to him.

He knew there had to be a reason for what Jason was doing.

He'll tell him that at least now he'll have an older brother who isn't a walking embarrassment. 

And Jason will smile. 

 

**+1.** _the phone call_

Bruce wasn't the happiest when Keith said that he was applying at the Garrison. Not because he didn't think it was a good idea, or because he didn't think Keith could handle it, but because it meant that his son would be moving all the way across the country. 

But he knew how much it meant to Keith, so he put on a smile and told Keith that he was proud of him. Because he is. So incredibly proud. His son stayed out of the cruel world of heroism and managed to get into one of the most prestigious establishments in the world. 

Dick and Tim had been a little sad because their little brother would be gone for most of the year, but they were proud of him too.

Even when Damian came around, the boy seemed interested in the older brother he was supposed to have but had never met. Keith didn't meet Damian until several months after the younger boy settled in as Robin, but they got along like a house on fire. 

It was terrifying.

(But Bruce was happy that Damian was finally getting along with one of his brothers.)

Keith would come back whenever he had break, even brought his roommate, Shiro, with him twice. Bruce was glad to see that there was somebody to look out for his son when he couldn't. 

But then Shiro went to Kerberos, disappeared, and Keith exploded. 

Bruce remembers getting the phone call from Keith about it a few minutes after it happened. He'd punched Iverson hard enough to break his nose and knock him out. He'd been expelled immediately after Iverson regained consciousness. 

"I don't regret it," Keith had said, his voice flat and cold, like it had been since Shiro's supposed death. Bruce's chest tightened every time he heard it. 

"Are you coming home?" Bruce had asked. He didn't expect Keith to say yes. 

Keith had just hummed noncommittally. "I have a place out here."

Keith didn't come home any time after that. He would call and video chat all the time, but he wouldn't come back to Gotham. He wouldn't tell them what he was doing out wherever it was that he was staying. He wouldn't say anything other than he had  _work to do._

So when Alfred hands Bruce the phone while he's combing through evidence and says that it's a call from the  _Galaxy Garrison_ , he's very confused. 

"Bruce Wayne," he says blankly as he frowns down at blood sample. 

"Mr. Wayne, we are calling to inform that there has been an incident," an emotionless voice drones. 

Bruce's hand clenches around the phone. "I'm sorry, there must be a mistake. My son doesn't attend the Garrison anymore."

The woman clears her throat. "Let me reword. Your son was involved in a training accident that killed three cadets. Your son was trespassing and was also killed in the accident."

She says it like it means nothing. Like it doesn't mean everything. 

Bruce's hand clenches until the phone crunches. 

"Master Bruce?" Alfred appears at his side, his brows drawn together with concern. 

But Bruce doesn't say anything. He can't say anything. His legs can't support him anymore.

The floor. He's on the floor now. When did he fall? 

His entire body is numb. He can't breathe.

His son. Keith. His son is dead. 

He swore he would never let this happen again.

It's happened again.

Bruce doesn't hear Alfred trying to get him to calm down. He doesn't hear him call for Tim and Jason. 

He doesn't hear any of it, because his son is dead. 

He failed. 

-

**Author's Note:**

> whoops. anyway, this is the longest thing i've ever written and i'm actually a little proud of it, so i hope it's good? i'm still kind of nervous about it.


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